


Good Things Come to Gods Who Beg

by AngelfishInAmerica



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, Verbal Humiliation, totally not in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelfishInAmerica/pseuds/AngelfishInAmerica
Summary: "If you can go a week without any outbursts, I'll dominate you."At first, Zamasu sputtered indignantly. "What is that supposed to mean? Why would I--a god, a supreme--desire that?*"I'm just saying it's on the table if you wanted it!" Chronoa giggled. She stood to leave the room; she had time duties and such to attend to. Before she exited, she looked over her shoulder and winked. "If you can follow instructions, of course!"
Relationships: Supreme Kai of Time | Chronoa/Zamasu (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Good Things Come to Gods Who Beg

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the only other ZamChro fic written by MadamBiscuit and by ritostime's art on twitter. Written for Ana after a solid week of us obsessively making up ZamChro headcanons and scenarios. This is the first time I've written anything without an OC/reader since 2016 so I'm just a teeny bit proud of myself.

"If you can go a week without any outbursts, I'll dominate you."

At first, Zamasu sputtered indignantly. "What is _that_ supposed to mean? Why would I--a god, a supreme--desire that?*

"I'm just saying it's on the table if you wanted it!" Chronoa giggled. She stood to leave the room; she had time duties and such to attend to. Before she exited, she looked over her shoulder and winked. "If you can follow instructions, of course!"

Zamasu scoffed. Absolutely ludicrous. This whole thing was--becoming a mentor for _mortals_ in this stupid city, spending time with her _at all,_ need he go on? Now she suggests he would desire any sort of domination from her. Who does she think she is?

And then a week passes. 

A week with no outbursts of godly fury from everyone's least favorite guest, Zamasu, one might note. 

Chronoa certainly notes it, but only to herself. Commenting on it to Zamasu would be too simple. It would also give him too much satisfaction. If she's going to dominate him, it's starting from the moment he's met her criteria. He just… won't know that yet, of course. 

As far as Zamasu is concerned, it has been a full week of him being _painfully_ kind to undeserving mortals and lesser gods. Not because he wants to be dominated, of course. He is Zamasu, the powerful, the beautiful. He doesn't want to be dominated. That would be humiliating. He would hate it.

Yes. He would hate it. But perhaps he is curious.

He sighs. So, perhaps, maybe, he does want to be dominated. Maybe, even, he wants to be dominated by the radiant goddess that swept him up from his (utterly lonely but) _successful_ timeline. Maybe he wants to be helpless at the hands of the shining star who looked at him and saw something worth saving, not that he needed it… Maybe he wanted it, nonetheless. 

"Maybe" is the most he can rationalize to himself at this point. Anything more than a maybe would be admitting defeat.

Zamasu doesn't handle defeat well. 

Zamasu finds Chronoa in her study. He enters casually, looking as disdainful as ever. He regards Tokitoki with an almost customary sneer. The bird puffs up slightly--also customary at this point. They're not particularly fond of each other, but civility is maintained for Chronoa's sake. 

Zamasu paces up to Chronoa's desk. Normally, she would've greeted him by now. She's usually so… excited to see him. He clears his throat. 

Chronoa looks up. "Oh, Zama!" she says, too familiar. He restrains himself from correcting the nickname, waiting instead for her to speak. She doesn't. She looks back down at the papers she's covering with her embarrassingly childish scrawlings. He's sure that, in her mind, it's legible. 

"It's been quite a week," he says, casually. Chronoa nods without looking up. He thinks he can see the ghost of a smile, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he continues. "I've abstained from any violent outbursts this week. You can even ask," he withholds his venom, " _Trunks_."

"Whoa, really?" Chronoa _finally_ looks up. "That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" And… she looks down again. 

Zamasu isn't the most patient man in the multiverse. He purses his lips and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his mind. Patience is key. Surely, she forgot. He'll jog her memory without being too obvious. 

"You should be--you're the one who proposed I 'behave' for a week."

Chronoa taps her pen to her chin in thought. "Did I? Yeah, I guess that sounds like me! Well, at any rate, I'm proud that you managed it!"

If Zamasu had been holding a pencil, it would be snapped right now. She did _not_ forget; she couldn't have. And he couldn't remind her. He shouldn't _hav_ _e_ to remind her. He shouldn't have to stoop to grovelling to a lesser deity--he is the greatest, after all--especially to seek some sort of sinful masochistic experience. She made a promise. How could she possibly--whatever. 

It isn't a big deal. It doesn't matter. Perhaps she's just playing it safe in front of the bird, and when they retire to bed, she'll drop the facade. Yes. That must be what it is. 

So he waits. 

When he enters the bedroom (her bedroom, which he has reluctantly shared for quite some time now) he sees her relaxed on her side of the bed. 

It looks like a typical night for her. She's sitting against the headboard in a nightgown that hangs lower on her chest than his beating heart feels should be legal. She's reading a book, which is a little less typical, but sometimes she decides to surprise him by being a _little_ intellectual. 

As he disrobes, Zamasu measures the best way to broach the topic. Unbeknownst to him, Chronoa watches over her book as his clothes unclasp and slide off his shoulders. She hasn't really been reading at all, but he doesn't need to know that. As he slips out of his turtleneck, she turns the page for good measure. 

"It's been quite a difficult week, withholding my righteous fury as I have," Zamasu muses aloud. He sounds as pompous as ever, but it's nothing Chronoa hasn't heard. 

Smiling into her book, she nods. "And I really am so proud of you!" She attempts to sound as distant as possible, focused on her reading. It's trashy smut that she _would_ happily read if she wasn't about to produce her own. 

As he's stepping into a pair of the loose pants he likes to wear to bed, Zamasu can feel his eye twitching. He decides to forego any sort of nightshirt. If someone pointed out that he was showing skin to get her attention, he would slaughter them, but they wouldn't be wrong. 

Chronoa, turning another page, knows she's winning. Soon he'll be in bed, and soon he's going to have to cave. There's no way to talk around the fact that he wants his reward. It became more evident with each day that passed peacefully, and she became a little cockier each day, too.

Zamasu sits on the bed. He sits next to her, against the headboard, pensive as ever. Chronoa continues to idly scan her eyes over the page in front of her. Thirty seconds, 20 seconds, 10, 5… She turns the page. 

Zamasu pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes with a sigh. "You can't seriously have forgotten."

With agonizing innocence and wide eyes, Chronoa looks up. "Forgotten something? What's up?"

Zamasu grumbles, "We had an agreement."

She taps her finger to her chin, feigning thought. "Did we? Could you remind me?"

Her acting isn't amazing, but she never intended it to be. This is the moment in which Zamasu begins to understand that she has known _exactly_ what he's been talking about the entire time. His blood boils. His dick twitches. He _can_ ' _t_ let her win.

"I--you can't possibly--you're toying with _me?!_ " There's a blush spreading across his face. Chronoa is biting back a grin, keeping up the charade just a little longer. 

"What is it?"

This is too easy for her, he thinks. This is entirely too easy, and a mockery he doesn't deserve. Zamasu stammers noises that don't make any particular words, glaring down at his clenched fists. This is _unbelievable._

Chronoa takes one hand away from the book to place her index finger under Zamasu's chin. She tips his face up to look her in the eye. "If you want something, you're going to have to use your words, or you're not getting anything at all."

Suddenly, Zamasu is aware that he is _hard._

They stare at each other for a moment. Her hand never moves. Chronoa clearly has all the time in the world (in the universe, to be specific) while Zamasu wrestles his pride. He's never known her to be this patient. 

"I… want," he starts, but the rest of his sentence comes out in an unintelligible mumble.

Now, Chronoa uses her whole hand to grasp his chin. There's no force in her hold, because she knows she doesn't need it. "I told you, you need to use your words." She's still smiling so sweetly, it makes him want to scream.

"I want you to dominate me." Zamasu chokes the words out. He's never felt this foolish, this submissive, and he's especially never felt so good about it. 

Chronoa's other hand finally snaps the book shut, a noise that makes Zamasu jump. She sets it down, eyes never leaving him.

"Good boy!" she says, suddenly. Normally, he would snap back at such childish treatment. Part of him still wants to, yet he only melts into her hand. 

Sitting up, Chronoa moves swiftly and presses him into the headboard of their bed. She plants her knees on either side of him. She's short, but sitting over his lap like this gives her a good vantage point. 

"You've been wanting this all week, haven't you?" Chronoa teases. He pouts and looks away, refusing to answer. She just keeps smiling and smacks him. "Answer me."

"Yes," he gasps. He can feel his cheek is red from the smack but knows better than to lift his hand to touch it right now. He just squirms in place instead.

"That's what I thought," she giggles, kissing the cheek she just slapped. "You want everyone to think you're a big, terrifying god, but the idea of me pushing you around really gets you worked up, doesn't it?" He opens his mouth, but she leans in to his ear. "You don't have to answer that one. I know it does."

Zamasu squirms beneath her and grabs the sheets. She settles back into his lap and rolls her hips, feeling him stiff against her. She's so close, her chest pressing to his and one strap of her nightdress sliding down her shoulder. 

"I shouldn't keep you waiting too long! You're so hard already." He breathes a sigh of relief at that. "Hey, don't get too comfortable! You still have to earn it."

Before he can question what exactly the hell that means, Chronoa gets back off his lap and lies down on her side of the bed. "Well, go on then," she urges. "You're not forgetting all the worshipping you make me do, are you? Pay your respects!" She's laughing again. She didn't expect to enjoy this so much, but riling up Zamasu is too fun.

Zamasu pauses like he always does before doing something new. He weighs his options--he could run and pretend this never happened, maybe even find a way back to his proper timeline where he never has to look at any of these truly godforsaken time patrollers again. He doesn't really want that, and he knows that, but humbling himself is hard. Almost as hard as he is.

Slowly, he allows himself to kneel between her legs. He starts at her neck, kissing it gingerly. Chronoa's left hand slips into his mess of white hair to tug lightly. He groans, moving down to her collarbone, and then to the top of her chest. He stops at the ruffles of her nightdress. 

"I know what you're thinking," she says, tugging his hair. He whines in spite of himself. "Don't you dare rip it!" She presses him back enough to sit up and make a small show of removing the dress, chest spilling out as she pulls it over her head. She lies back against her pillows and smiles up at him. He snaps himself out of his staring.

Zamasu's played this game before. He knows how to hold her breasts, how she likes him to drag his tongue around her nipple before taking it between his teeth, and exactly how hard to bite. He bites a little harder than that, like he usually does, only to have his hair grabbed sharply.

"Watch it!" she says with a voice that's harsher than usual. He looks up to find a severe expression. One part of him shudders and another part strains against his pants. He pushes his luck by dragging his teeth again. She shivers with a whine, pulling his hair even harder. "Are you _trying_ to make me hurt you?"

"And what if I am?" The way he smirks and looks up through his lashes would melt her any other time, but tonight she drags the nails of her free hand across his shoulder and up to his jaw and digs deep.

"Then you'd be making a grave mistake."

That's not hot. That's not hot. That's _not_ hot. He's doing a shit job of convincing himself, so he goes back to worshiping her with his mouth, kissing where he bit and across her chest to the other nub. He _should_ be furious every time she tells him what a good boy he is, but he just can't make it happen. 

Zamasu trails kisses down her stomach, whispering how beautiful she is, how perfect she is, things he would normally never say outside of his own mind. In his lowest voice and against all of his values, he whispers, "My goddess," as he reaches the lowest point of her torso.

"Say that again." When he looks up, there's a moment of real surprise on her face.

Zamasu pauses, processing the praise he'd just given, and plants a chaste kiss to her belly. "My goddess," he says, again. She smiles down at him, biting her lip. After a moment of reverence between them, Zamasu hooks his fingers under the waistband of her panties and slides them off. 

One thing they found out early on in this arrangement is that Zamasu's mouth is good for more than monologuing. The moment his breath hits her lips, she swallows a gasp. _She_ is in control and she doesn't want to give him too much satisfaction. His tongue drags between her labia, parting the folds for a better taste. He doesn't need to be told what to do here, eagerly lapping her up. In the brief moment he pulls away to comment on how wet she is, her hands have already shoved his face back in. 

"You're so good, Zama," she praises, knowing the nickname embarrasses him, even in private. "Do you like eating me out like this?" He doesn't respond, so she pulls his head closer again. "Do you like being _mine?_ "

That draws an involuntary whine out of him. He glares up at her, but he doesn't stop. She grins. "You do, don't you? You love being good for _me_. You try to convince everyone you're the toughest guy around, but you just want me to put you in your place."

Zamasu's tongue works against her more earnestly, sucking on her clit and groaning against it. If she'd let him breathe for even a moment in the state he's in, he would tell her just how good she tastes. He can sense she's getting worked up. If he gets her off, maybe she'll reward him, maybe she'll--

Suddenly, his head is yanked away. He looks up sort of pitifully to see her face as red as his. 

"That's.. enough for now."

Zamasu frowns. "But don't you want me to--"

"You've been so good," she says, and he immediately shuts up. She sits up to kiss him, to taste herself on his lips, to run her hands down his shoulders, over his chest, around his waist… down his pants… and grabs his ass. 

He yelps. There's no other way to describe it. 

"Oh my goodness," she laughs, breaking both the kiss and her character. "That was adorable!"

"It was _not_ \--" he starts, only to be cut off by another kiss and a swift squeeze of his cheeks. 

"It was. Now… how should I reward you for doing so well?" Her hands slide around to the front of his pants where he is painfully rigid. "Maybe you should get some attention too?"

Chronoa's fingers brush against his cock and he can't even form the words to agree or be sassy about it. When her hand pulls away, he's disappointed until he sees the same hand dipping down to her pussy to get some of her own wetness. She sucks it off her middle finger before going back for more.

"How about you take your pants off instead of staring at me like a dork?"

He scoffs and grumbles dissent to the name calling, but he does make short work of his pajama pants. Sitting back down, fully nude, he shifts uncomfortably. He feels exposed every time despite Chronoa being in the same state in front of him. His eyes fall to watch her touch herself, though, and everything else seems to fade away. 

Chronoa takes her other hand to steady against his shoulder just before pulling the hand between her legs to grasp the base of him. Within a few strokes, he's breathing hard again.

"Do you like that?" She watches him turn his face away with red cheeks. "Hey, answer me."

"Don't--don't mock me," he stammers in a last ditch effort to maintain his dignity. Chronoa releases her hold of his dick. "Why--!"

"Talking back like that isn't very _good_ of you." The pleasant smile on her face is somehow terrifying. "We don't have to do this. Perhaps we'll stop for the night until you're better behaved?"

Zamasu whimpers. "No, I…"

"Then answer me. Bad boys don't get to cum. Gods who don't behave don't get anything except put in their place."

He's not sure when she got good at this. He's not sure if she practiced, or if she's been holding this back all along. His brain tells him to talk back, to not be humiliated, to flip the switch here, but the heat pooling in his stomach tells him otherwise. 

"I love it," he admits, staring down. She brings her hand back to continue stroking slowly. Too slowly. "I love being…" Oh, how he laments his pride. "I love when you touch me." Her hand speeds up; he shudders. 

She giggles again and kisses his cheek while she jacks him off. "I knew you could be good. I know you can do that for your goddess, right?"

"Yes, yes," he agrees. He's getting closer. "Anything for my goddess--"

Her hands keep working him until she can tell he's just on the edge, and she stops again. His disappointment is audible in the way he keens in mourning at the loss of touch. 

"Do you want me to finish you off like this? Do you want to cum into my hands because you're just so desperate for your goddess' touch?"

"I don't _care_ ," Zamasu groans. "I don't care how you do it. Please."

"Please, who?"

"Please, goddess," he says, not even hesitating this time. 

So she wraps her hand around him a third time, stroking him faster and faster. She kisses him, too, while he bucks into her hand. It's messy and open with Zamasu panting and clinging to her to stay upright. 

When he finally hits his peak, he sees stars and nothing else. He doesn't see the way he stills against her hand to make a mess all over it and he certainly doesn't see the way she watches him unwind with so much love in her eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair as he comes down from the high and loosens her grip on him, catching the last few spurts. 

He stills against her. It's pretty clear he's in bliss. She starts to say, "You did so good--" when his head snaps back to look at her hungrily. Chronoa almost jumps. "What's…?"

"You haven't finished." Chronoa furrows her brows. That hardly seems important to her; _she_ promised to dominate _him._ Her focus was to get him off.

And yet, he shoves her back down against her pillows, picking back up where he left off. She'd almost forgotten how wet she was. It's her turn to buck her hips against him, struggling to do much as he holds her thighs in place. 

It doesn't take long before she unwinds and sobs out his name. Her mouth hangs open and she stares at the ceiling, not seeing the way _he_ stares at her in adoration. Her chest rises and falls, and she begins to look back down at him. By that point he manages to steel his expression. Even after all of that, to show his actual love feels like a defeat he isn't ready to admit.

"You did--you did excellent," she manages. She looks at her hand, still a mess from him. She laughs. It's not at either of them. She just… laughs. "Was it worth it?"

His brows knit together. "Worth what?" 

"Being good for a week, silly!" With the hand that's comparatively clean, she cups his cheek and grins at him. 

He pulls back from her touch, looks away, and huffs. "It was pleasurable."

"Oh, come _on_!" Chronoa laughs as she sits up to kiss him.

"We're messy," he says matter-of-factly. "We need to shower. We can't go to sleep like this."

"This from the one who brags about how sleep is unnecessary?"

"It's helpful for maintaining a schedule," he bullshits. He likes sleeping with her and they both know it, but loving Zamasu comes with a lot of unspoken affection. 

"Well, fine, I guess we should shower. C'mon, we can do it together!" She takes his hand while she slides off the bed. His blush is just as bright as every other time she's proposed bathing together. He doesn't say anything to that, following her lead. 

"And we need to change the blanket," he notes before entering the bathroom. 

"We can worry about that after we clean up." She turns on the hot water and makes no attempt to hide her ass when she bends in front of him to lay out the towels. He looks away quickly as if they haven't just had sex.

They do worry about the bedding after their shower, which consists of Chronoa whining that he's blocking the water and Zamasu insisting on shampooing and conditioning her hair for nonsense reasons about how he can't trust her to wash it thoroughly.

When they get under the covers, Chronoa turns to smile at him. He turns away; she rolls her eyes. She knows how this is going to go, and it does go that way, when she's woken up an hour later to feel him wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face to her neck. He does this often, especially on nights when they've been intimate. Without fail, he will pull away before she wakes up, assuming she was none the wiser. She's not about to tell him he's wrong and kill any chances of being held in her sleep again. 

The next day, Zamasu resumes business as usual. She smiles when he makes morning tea and compliments his masterful brewing, even if she can't honestly tell the difference between it and her "microwaved mudwater." 

"We should do that again sometime," she remarks between sips. 

"I have absolutely no idea what you could be referring to," he says. Chronoa chuckles and shakes her head.

Whatever he needs to tell himself to maintain his pride, she can deal with it. When he looks up at her, she smiles. Zamasu blushes and swallows his tea. He can't fool her.


End file.
